The Fix
by Gigawolf1
Summary: A little anthology of stories based around the end of The Fix
1. Irony

Irony

Meredith Gordon

The older woman took a drag from her cigarette. Across from her sat a beautiful young blonde girl. The two sat in silence, neither being able to express their thoughts. She looked at her daughter, wondering what she would think of her home which was no doubt horrible compared to the house she had been raised in. Meanwhile, the same girl was wondering if she could find some shred of the past, some truth to break the web of lies which surrounded her for as long as she could remember.

Finally Claire broke the silence. "Is there anything special about you or my father? Any kind of medical problems or something I should be worried about?" Instantly her mother's face tightened. Her mind raced with thoughts of fourteen years ago, to the fire which had separated mother and daughter.

"How did you survive?"

The question took the girl off-guard. She had expected some kind of list of diseases and illnesses, as Hank and Lisa had given when her father used them to simulate her real parents, or some sort of list of slight problems. The last thing she expected was a question that took her right to the heart of her visit. "I…" The words could barely come out. The fear of rejection due to her powers overwhelmed her. What if her mother had no powers, and thought her a freak? There would be no way to know anything was real.

Finally the woman gathered the words the girl could not. "What can you do?" In that moment, both understood that the other had a gift, and that they were not really alone in the world. "I heal."

Rather than explain, Meredith merely lit her hand on fire. Extinguishing the flame, she asked, "Anything else you want to know about? Your family will probably start to worry about you." Whatever she had been expecting, the fierce look that crossed Claire's eyes took her by surprise. "Who was my real father?"

That question was the one she had hoped would not be asked, but she had known she would have wondered. "I didn't really know him for very long. A few years before you were born, I was contacted by an organization looking for people like us. Those damn government people. When I started out, I could only make things a little warmer. Once they got to me, they taught me how to light my hand on fire. The man they 'assigned' to watch me and train me was your father."

A wrenching feeling in Claire's gut came then, tearing at her mind. "What was his name?"

"His name was Matthew. That's all he could tell me according to his bosses." Her words faded away as Claire took in the truth at last.

The man who had raised her as his own daughter was named Matt. And he was her real father.


	2. Unmoving

Unmoving

Mr. Nakamura

The four sat alone in the hotel suite. The two nervous men exchanged glances worriedly, hoping for an escape from their perilous situation. Across from them sat a hard-faced man and a beautiful woman. It was Hiro Nakamura's worst nightmare; his harsh sister and hard businessman father, come to keep him from his destiny to be a hero.

Both of them were far too trapped in reality to listen to his arguments. He was the only one in his entire family who seemed able to imagine anything greater than money, which had set him against his father since a young age. "Dreaming will get you nowhere, Hiro" said his father countless times. "You are a fool, brother. Stop dreaming and start working" said his sister whenever he would mention his aspirations.

Ironically, his will to separate himself from the rest of the people around him showed in his ability to bend the space-time continuum, allowing him to transport himself wherever and whenever he wanted to be. However, such a vast power took much effort to master, and he had recently lost most of that power. He had just been searching for a way to restore it when he had been forced to meet with his family in this hotel.

His friend, Ando, was the only one in the room whose will was not fully there. He had gone along to support Hiro, but had quickly become involved in a web of confusion and intrigue which could not be unravelled by any man. No man had the perspective to see all the events which were taking place, let alone one without any powers of his own.

"You must end this foolish quest of yours, Hiro. You will return to Tokyo tomorrow, and that is final." Hiro looked at his father, thinking of the courage of the hero he wished to be. Somehow, perhaps through his power to bend time and space, he summoned his courage to himself then.

"No. I am not a child, Father. I can do as I wish, and I choose to stay in New York. If I return to Tokyo, it shall be because I want to, not because you tell me to!"

The older man slammed his fist down on a nearby coffee table. The force of his fist caused the table to shake and soot to fall from the nearby fireplace. Outside, the ground shook slightly, as if responding to the man's anger. "No one speaks to me like that, Hiro! Not only am I Yakuza, but I am your Father!" Immediately he regretted the word which his family avoided whenever possible.

His entire life, Hiro had grown up knowing that his father was part of the organized crime system known as the Yakuza. This was the greatest fuel to his need to escape; his father was, in his eyes, a bad man. He had power, but used it for greed and to hurt innocent people. When even a fraction of his rage was released, his father could make even the bravest man tremble in terror.

And still, the man known as Hiro Nakamura forced himself to stand against a man who was like a force of nature.

AN: In case you didn't notice, I gave a few not-so-subtle hints at Hiro's father being 'special.' What is it? Geokinesis, the power to move earth (think Earthbenders from Avatar, or Terra from Teen Titans, if you know them)


	3. Inheritance

Inheritance

Mr. Petrelli

The two sat in a cab, neither speaking. One had an unkempt appearance, from what could be months without shaving or a haircut. The other looked as dignified as he could, considering he was hiding from his powerful politician brother. They would have been quite an odd sight, except for one slight problem; both were invisible.

Peter Petrelli, the man in the back seat, spoke up as Claude, his new mentor, drove through the New York streets. "Won't people find it sort of weird that a cab without a driver is going through New York?"

The British man laughed. "New Yorkers don't notice anything out of the ordinary, because nothing here is ordinary to begin with. Your little explosion problem comes from that, remember? That's why we're driving around to begin with." Looking around, he suddenly turned into a parking space on the side of the road. "And now we'll try to teach you how to control yourself."

Curiosity tugged at Peter. "Have you ever met someone like me? Someone who could use other people's powers?"

Claude continued walking, but turned his head slightly to speak. "I've met very few people who could see me, but not all of them were empaths like you. Only one guy and I didn't help him much. That's why I didn't really want to help you."

"Didn't help him much?" asked Peter. "What happened to him?"

"He didn't explode, if that's what you're wondering. He went ahead and killed himself. Saved everyone a lot of trouble, but he was a good man." As an afterthought, he added "You sort of remind me of him."

"When did he kill himself?"

The question took Claude by surprise. "Would have been about April, I suppose. Why?"

Peter stopped walking, his mind trying to digest the information. About six months ago, during April, his father had committed suicide. 'It couldn't be,' he thought, but still he asked "Did he tell you what kind of powers he was absorbing?"

The Brit thought back, and remembered a few of them. "Well, he could sometimes become invisible, if that helps at all. He also mentioned that he could see things that other people could see, and something about things disappearing without anyone moving them."

'No flying? Then it couldn't have been Dad,' thought Peter. Besides, he didn't know anyone who could fit the description he had just received except for Claude himself. After all, any empath could become invisible near Claude, and only they would be able to see him. Plus, an invisible man could take anything he wanted, so long as no one who could see him was nearby, and the odds of that were incredibly low.

Four blocks away, a woman appeared in her apartment on the top floor of a large building. She had to get away from her children and grandchildren sometimes, and so she had used her dead husband's money to find a place to escape to. Behind her, a small hole vanished. Until recently, she had lost her power to open holes in reality. But it was back, and Angela Petrelli was thankful.

AN: She can take whatever she wants by opening a hole from one place to another. That would make her good at shoplifting, and make her able to move things without anyone noticing… But if Mr. Petrelli was truly an empath, who could see things others see?


	4. Never Alone

Never Alone

I hear them, but I can't see them. It's only them, though. The rest I can see. I see them make their mistakes, leading them into situations they can't get out of.

I, on the other hand, make no such mistakes. Some may say I interfere, but what I truly do is save. I unite. I lead them together, drawing them to one place, one destiny.

I am bringing them to me, not merely because I am a collector of the amazing, like these paintings on my walls or the sword in my personal museum. I see them, and wish them the best.

The politician who denounces his own dark self, whose father was a good friend of mine. His brother, who can do anything. The cheerleader, who has died more deaths than anyone ever should. The painter whose eyes can see things yet to come. The construction worker whom no cell can hold. His wife who took an imaginary friend one step too far. Their child whose skills with technology surpasses any normal human. The woman whose fire burns brightly in all who know her. The officer whose mind can do what his eyes cannot. The hero whose power can take him wherever and whenever he wants. The worker who can keep others from thinking the way they should.

There are also the wireless woman and the exploding man. They run, but they are being tracked. Not only by my roaming eye, but by others.

And, of course, the shadow. He wants to cover this third eye of mine. He wants to tear me open and rip it out. He can't see me, like I can see him, but he knows I'm watching him. He wants to kill all of us. He wants to keep us from seeing, but I can never stop.

They aren't the only ones I can see. I can see all of them. I always see them. And there are some who see me. Yes, that's right. I see you too.

-Mr. Linderman


End file.
